


These brand-new silver streams

by whirligigged



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Incest, Team Gluttony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 05:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2257473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whirligigged/pseuds/whirligigged
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"About time." The voice comes like the water had, wrapping him in shocking coolness and spitting him out. She's lifted her skirts above the crawling tide, but her hem is dark with damp. He wonders how long she's waited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	These brand-new silver streams

**Author's Note:**

> Written for summerpornathon 2012, week 1, the image challenge. Title from "I Was a Daughter" by Basia Bulat.

He hisses, and lifts his foot from the cool sand to dig a shard of a shell from his sole.

"About time." The voice comes like the water had, wrapping him in shocking coolness and spitting him out.

He expects a dark look when he looks up, though he doesn't know the voice, nor the woman before him. Somehow, it surprises him that her expression is only wry, not fierce, not heartbreaking. 

She's lifted her skirts above the crawling tide, but her hem is dark with damp. He wonders how long she's waited.

"Long enough," she says, and chuckles. "He'll be so mad he missed your coming."

"Where is he?" He doesn't remember a name to ask after, but his chest clenches and he must know now, where—where...

"You've kept him waiting long enough—it's time you had a turn." A wind, whipping about them, tosses her hair before her face and conceals her expression. Her voice doesn't betray much when she says, "He'll be along in time. That's my fault, a bit. But he made sure I'd be here. I've been waiting, too."

He steps forward, the stinging of sharp stones a relief after the blankness of…years? Eons, perhaps. "I've missed you." He still doesn't know her, except that he must, because the words burst forth like he's been holding them in a long time.

She pushes her long hair from her face. "I was your sister."

"Was?" He is distracted by her eyes, which are bright, crinkling at the edges. She is not an old woman, but something about those eyes strikes him as weathered. She has felt time.

"A crone, am I?" she asks of him, amused. "Yes. Was. You're a child of Avalon now. Reborn." She says it like a bored child recites a lesson.

"Am I different?" He looks down at himself, flexing his hands before him. He wears no clothes, but feels not shame, just—strangeness. He could be a different person, for all he knows of his own body, though he feels comfortable enough in the skin.

"You look much the same to me. Younger, a bit. Like before...everything." She lays a hand upon his cheek. And that is a familiar thing, even more than the rest. It is just as Morgana had done when they were children. He would fall asleep with her stories falling on his ears, into his dreams, of brave men in battles.

She’d still done that sometimes, when he left for his first patrol, or for tournaments. Then she had fallen out of the habit, as she had later fallen out of the habit of loving him, without him noticing, until it was too late to get back. He had thought it often near the end, seeing Morgana's army's fires flickering across the battlefields, when bitterness had become as familiar a companion as any knight at his table. Yes. It is all familiar. He misses her with fresh desperation.

"I did love you," Morgana says. "Only, for a while, I hated you more." Her lips curve when he blinks at her, wondering at her response to what he'd left unspoken. He feels her memories against his, the warmth and misery. "We’re naked in all ways here."

He turns her palm up in his and presses his lips there. "You’re not." She lets him, so he mouths at her palm, at her wrist. He lowers her down to the sand. She sighs like years and grief are slipping off her white shoulders with the cloth he parts, until she is bare underneath him.

She looks very white, spread across her deep green robes in the pale light of the long dawn. He dips his fingers into her, crooking them deep and circling his thumb round and round her clit until her chest flushes pink.

She rakes five pink lines down his chest to match, grasps his cock in her other hand. He hadn’t even noticed it grow hard. "Now," she murmurs into his ear, and bites down on the lobe. He spans her round hips with his hands, pressing into the skin there, warm and close. He holds her there as he slides into her. They gasp together, rhythm matched, finally, and it's the first thing that’s not familiar, that's brand new.


End file.
